


A Little More Than Friendly Relations

by crackficsgalore



Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - Russian 21st c., Political RPF - US 21st c., Real Person Fiction, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Crack Crossover, Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, Everyone wants a piece of Obama, Jabba the Hutt is a player, M/M, Obama resorts to chain-smoking, POV Obama, Political alliances behind the scenes, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 22:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14458962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackficsgalore/pseuds/crackficsgalore
Summary: When Jabba the Hutt pays President Obama a visit at his vacation home, he is looking for a little more than just friendly relations.





	A Little More Than Friendly Relations

**Author's Note:**

> Never before have I been simultaneously embarrassed and yet proud of a work as I am with this one. This bizarre fic was the result of a dare between friends: we wrote character and people names on slips of paper, threw them in a hat, and each pulled out two (or more) names for a slash fic. I got Obama and Jabba the Hutt...

Barack Obama stood at the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the secluded tropical island, a lit cigarette in one hand. He blew out the smoke he had been holding before saying quietly,

“You know I can’t take you up on that offer, Jabba.”

The 44th President of the United States of America angled his body towards the center of the room, where an enormous ugly blob of a creature took up the entire couch. The room was sparsely decorated, with two armchairs, a couch, a glass coffee table featuring a few outdated copies of _Science_ magazine, and a tall potted plant. The creature looked completely out of place on the couch; it was over twelve feet long and five-and-a-half feet tall, with dry, brown-green skin, reminiscent of a booger; narrow, orange cat-like eyes; a lumpy body that narrowed into a stumpy tail; and T-rex-like arms. Obama struggled to keep the distaste from showing on his face every time he looked at the creature, for as disgusting as its outward appearance was, it was a powerful crime lord and a member of the Grand Hutt Council from the distant planet of Tatooine. Jabba had routinely visited each President of the United States since the country’s inception, as well as the leaders of other world powers since before then. It was in the President’s best interest not to anger it.

The creature lifted its head slightly, its eyes trained on the President. “And you know that I will continue to ask until I get what I want, _Barack_.”

Obama repressed a shudder by taking another drag from his cigarette. After holding the smoke in his mouth for a few seconds and then releasing it in a controlled stream, he said calmly, “I don’t understand why you continue to press me when you know that I love my wife and don’t intend to cheat on her.”

Jabba the Hutt let out a low chuckle. “You have always been a strange one, Barack. I have never before met a human politician unwilling to take me up on my offer.”

The words escaped Obama’s mouth before he could stop them. “Ever?” he said, his stomach flipping over unpleasantly.

Jabba smirked so wide that his eyes became mere slits. “Human politicians are a funny breed; they preach one thing and practice another. Funny how the politicians that preach ‘family values’ are the first to stray from their wives to other women, men, and even species.”

Obama turned away and again faced the windows, if only so that he could hide the look of disgust on his face that accompanied the sour bile rising in his throat. He raised the cigarette to his lips with a shaky hand and took another drag.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you there, Jabba.”

The creature let out an exaggerated sigh. “Very well. Let us talk about your successor, then. Do you have any idea of who it will be?”

Obama paused for a few moments. He could finally feel the calming effects of the cigarette kicking in, and his shoulders relaxed slightly.

“No idea,” he said, turning back to his visitor. “Personally, I’m not a huge fan of anyone running this election season. However, it’s looking as though you will probably be dealing with either former first lady Hillary Clinton or celebrity-turned-businessman Donald Trump.”

An amused chuckle rumbled from deep within the creature’s chest. “How delightful.”

Obama held his cigarette out in front of him and watched the end of it glow a deep orange-red. “This country is going to shit.”

“Naturally. When will the votes be cast?”

“November.”

“And when will your successor take over?”

“January.”

Jabba the Hutt nodded. “You will be a hard act to follow,” he said, his eyes trained once more on the President’s face. “I am sure you will be remembered as one of the best presidents in US history.”

Obama forced his face to stay passive, not taking his eyes off the glowing end of his cigarette even as his stomach did another nauseating flop. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Jabba.”

Jabba shrugged. “It was worth a try.” An evil grin spread slowly across his lumpy face. “After all, I still have a few good months left to get what I want from you.”

Obama lifted his cigarette and took another drag in a futile attempt to fight the disgust clawing away at his insides. Releasing the smoke, he said firmly, “I’m not having an affair with you, Jabba. End of discussion.”

The evil, knowing smile did not leave Jabba’s face.

“Until next time,” the creature said simperingly, heaving his massive body from the couch with a thump that shook the floor and rattled the window in its pane. “I look forward to your change of heart, Barack.” Then it slithered from the room, the door slamming behind it.

Obama let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and slumped into one the armchairs, rubbing his temple with his free hand. Jabba had shown up every few months during both of his terms in office, always after the same thing. He was extremely glad that he was nearing the end of his presidency and would no longer have to deal with Jabba’s unwanted advances.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Obama said, lifting his head, his forehead wrinkled in confusion; he wasn’t expecting another guest for a few more hours.

The door opened; it was one of his Secret Service guards, a finger pressed to his earpiece.

“Mr. President, sir, there is another leader here who wants to see you.”

“Who is it?”

“Vladimir Putin, Mr. President, sir. Shall I let him in?”

Obama began rubbing his temple again and let out a sigh. “Yes, yes, put him through.”

Less than a minute later, the president of Russia strode into the room, grinning and stretching his out arms towards Obama. “Ah, Barack, long time no see,” Putin said, as if greeting an old friend. “Have you reconsidered my . . . ahem . . . previous offer?”

Obama lifted his cigarette shakily to his lips and took another futile drag. It was turning out to be a very long day.


End file.
